


Behold, The Fuck-Inator!

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [61]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Cloaca, Cunnilingus, Finger Sucking, Fucking Machines, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV Second Person, Trans Male Character, fond exasperation is the name of the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 16:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17348231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: Of course it's a fucking scheme. Does Heinz ever do anything that'snotovercomplicated to all fuck?





	Behold, The Fuck-Inator!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinyOctopus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyOctopus/gifts).



Of course it's a fucking scheme. Does Heinz ever do anything that's _not_ overcomplicated to all fuck? He can't just talk to you face to face, no, he has to _trap_ you and _monologue_ and here comes the inator under a sheet because of course it does.

"Behold!" he announces, dramatically, before ripping the sheet off, dramatically, and gesturing at it, _dramatically_ , "the Fuck-inator!"

You behold.

The grey box of it's large, bulky, and covered in lights, with your favourite of his dicks on a pole. With a name like that, what else could it be?

He's grinning at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and all you can do is sigh. For fuck's sake. Does he _really_ think you want to roleplay thwarting when you fuck? Sure, you don't mind the trap, you _expect_ that from him now, but this? Too fucking far.

At least it explains why he wanted you in his _lab_ this time.

He wheels it closer to the frame you're tied to anyway, making sure it lines up with your cloaca. "Don't worry," he says, lubing it up like that could make it less fucking ridiculous, "it won't _hurt_ , I tested it myself!" With a quick brush of his hand over your aching dick, to remind you what he's _not_ doing right now, he grins. "You'll be _fine_."

Someday you'll have to explain why that's not reassuring in the slightest. But not now, because he just (fuck) turned it on.

It starts slow, thank fuck. An inexorable force demanding you submit. So you do, with the ease of long practice, feeling it open you up, slowly, more patient than _he's_ ever been. You keep your breathing even as it pushes inside you, hold still while its firm nubs brush against the base of your dick, make yourself relax around its girth. And still it keeps coming,

both time and your cloaca stretching until, at last,

it stops.

All you can do is wait for your body to catch up, sucking in air, still clutching the cat toy he'd pressed into your paw earlier. You're not sure why he has it, it's not like he has a _pet_ , but you've given up questioning anything he does.

"Told you!" he says brightly, and you glare at him. Just because he's _right_ doesn't mean he has to be so _smug_ about it. He's pulled up a chair so he can watch, sitting backwards with his elbows resting on the backrest, legs spread so you can see (and smell, fuck) the damp patch between them.

With a quiet growl, you use the leverage of your restraints to work yourself onto his bright purple dick just that little bit further. Well, you _say_ "his", but the lazy fuck is apparently too lazy to fuck you properly. His loss. If he won't fuck you, you'll have to do it yourself. Another roll of your hips and you groan, throwing your head back, showing him exactly what he's missing out on.

He whimpers. Fucking _whimpers_ , watching you, eyes on you, hand down his pants to the sight of you.

You meet his eyes and smirk, revelling in the way he squirms. Almost as good as putting your paws on him directly. He moves so beautifully, desperately clutching at the chair, arching his back, toes curling below him. Sweat plasters his hair to his face and if you weren't tied up you'd be twisting your paws into it, kissing him like your life depended on it.

But no, _he_ wants you to _thwart_ him. Which you will. Just as soon as you tug a paw free,

the paw _not_ clutching the ball, you don't want to stop just yet,

so of course that's when his dick starts to fucking _vibrate_.

He laughs at you, like the evil fucking jerk he is. "You should have seen your _face_ , Perry the Platypus! One minute you're all _serious_ , then _bam_!"

Wrenching your body back under your control, you glare at him, holding still despite the fur prickling along your spine. If he wants you to give in, he'll have to _make_ you, with his own two hands.

Until then, you're doing just fine with his dick in you and his inator wielding it and his eyes following your every move. Tugging your tail free from its restraints, you curl it around the base of his dick, driving yourself onto it, taking full advantage of every millimetre of motion he's let you have.

A small gasp pulls your attention back to him. He rocks into his hand, staring at you,

still clothed.

You narrow your eyes at him. A demand. _Strip_.

He does, pulling frantically at his clothes, tossing them aside without regard for where they land. You drink in the sight of his naked body, sharp corners and soft curves and scars. So many scars. They curl around his ribs and across his belly and down his legs, thin white lines and jagged twisted flesh, as much a part of him as the grin you love so much.

How long have you spent running your paws over and along them, mapping out the history spelled out on his skin?

Your eyes drift lower, to the fork of his legs and the thick patch of fur there. The only part of him that had made _sense_ when you'd first seen it. And even then, if you slide a paw through the slickness there, he's still so obviously _human_.

Fresh waves of his musk fill the room as he squirms under your gaze. You take a deep breath, tasting it in the back of your throat, filling your lungs with the scent of him,

only to have it fucked right back out as his dick starts moving, short and sharp thrusts, never quite deep enough to satisfy.

He fucking _planned_ this, you swear.

You hiss between your teeth, flattening down your fur out of sheer force of will, violently suppressing the urge to beg. As good as it would feel to give in, you will not beg. You're not _that_ desperate. No matter how much his scent hangs in the air, filling your nose and your mouth and making your head spin, you _will_ hold out.

Straddling the chair again, he slides his fingers between his legs for you to watch, tracing them lightly over his front cloaca. Not a cloaca, it's something so _human_ , but you don't have any other word for it so that'll have to do. Why humans need _two_ , you have no idea, it's inefficient to have _two_ , but you can't stop watching as the tip of his finger moves back and forth, back and forth,

before it slides in and you bite back a whimper,

imagining _your_ finger, your _dick_ , inside him instead, surrounded by his slick human heat.

"You like that, Perry the Platypus?" he says, that evil fucking smirk spreading across his face, and you growl.

If only you could get free, you could _take_ him, show him how much he's gotten to you already, make him feel how hard he's making you. He'd like that, you think.

His finger slides back out to circle around his human cloaca, back and forth and back and forth, and out of the corner of your eye you see his grin turn predatory. "Yeah, you _do_. Tell me how much you like it."

A whine erupts from your throat as you stare, mesmerised by his finger, back and forth and never quite going in again. You want it to. There's nothing you want more right now than to grab his hand and push it into him, to fuck him with his own fingers, to watch him writhe and shudder and moan in front of you as he comes, to lick him clean afterwards, to taste him in the back of your throat for hours after.

You tug at the restraints again, finally pulling your paw loose. A roll of your wrist to get the blood flowing again, and you gesture at him, middle finger pointed straight up. Fuck him.

And also, _fuck_ him.

He grins, the little shit, and pulls his fingers away to lick them clean, moaning shamelessly as his tongue curls around and between them like they're your dick.

Fuck, you wish it was your dick. It throbs between your legs, sadly neglected thus far, and before you think through what you're doing you let your free paw drop, running it up the hard flesh just enough to take the edge off.

It's not until he leers at you that you realise you've definitely made a mistake. Now he _knows_ you're desperate for it.

"Oh, look at _you_ , Perry the Platypus."

All you can do is watch while he stands, sauntering towards you until his nose grazes the tip of your bill, eyes half-lidded. His hand curls around your jaw, tilting your head up so your eyes meet his, and with the other he curls his fingers around your wrist, pinning your free paw against the restraint you'd pulled it from.

You squirm, fur prickling at his touch. You're so exposed like this, so vulnerable, with his breath against your bill and his hands in your fur and his fucking _dick_ stretching you so wide.

He shushes you when you growl, pressing a human kiss to the top of your bill that leaves you shivering. "What do you want, huh? Do you want me to suck you off? I bet you're _aching_ for it." Letting go of your wrist, he sinks down, hand sliding down to your hip as his hot breath brushes over your dick.

_Fuck_ , you want him.

Twisting your fingers into his hair, you tug, demanding, _pleading_ for his mouth on you. Or his hand. Or anything, really, because as good as his dick feels inside you, and out and in and out and in as you're fucked with it, it's not enough.

"You're so good like this, Perry the Platypus," he murmurs, digging his fingers into your side. "So good for me. I mean you're a Good Guy, _obviously_ , but-" He bites his lip, glancing up at you through his lashes like he's _not_ fucking taunting you. "You know what I mean, right? With the whole _letting_ me do this... Oh, you do? Good. That's good, like you, so _Good_. Now, open wide~"

You may not know what he's planning, and he's _definitely_ planning _something_ , but trusting him has never failed you before. Closing your eyes, you let your mouth fall open, ready for whatever he's about to do,

which is apparently shoving his fucking fingers in.

It's a testament to how often he's done this that you don't _choke_ on them, knuckle-deep and covered in his cum. You love the taste of him, curling your paw around his wrist to hold it in place, sliding your tongue over and around and between his fingers to find the last of it.

He chuckles as you moan around him, then pushes deeper into your throat, and out and in and out and in, matching the fast pace of the inator. "Have I told you how much I like these little _growls_ of yours?" he murmurs in your ear. "Because I do. You're so _shameless_ , I bet _everyone_ can hear you right now. And if they don't, well, they _should_ , you sound _amazing_."

You'd _better_ , with everything he's doing to you. Trapping you, fucking you, bending you to his will. Heat coils in your gut at the thought.

" _Growl_ for me," he says, voice still low, the thumb of his other hand sliding along the underside of your neglected dick. You shiver at the feel of it, the fur along your spine standing up. "Can you do that, Perry the Platypus? I want the _entire Tri-State Area_ to hear how much you're en _joy_ ing this."

Of course you can. You're _Perry the Platypus_ , you can do anything. Moaning again, louder, you move to meet his hand and his dick, up and down and up and down, your world shrinking down until all you know is him _fucking_ you.

He pants against you, face pressed into your shoulder. "My _inator_ really got you revved up, huh? I bet you're close. You look like it, taking my fingers so deep. This," he wraps his hand around your dick, "is so _nice_ and _hard_ , it'd be a _shame_ if I didn't get the chance to play with it _properly_." Then, because he loves torturing you, he (fuck) squeezes you tight, thumb pressing between the heads. "Don't you think so?"

One more firm suck on his fingers and you pull back to glare at him. Fuck's sake, you have more self-control than _that_. You may be close but there's no way you'll let him defeat you, not _here_ and _now_.

Not when he smells so close to his own end.

So you drop his hand and pull him close, sinking your teeth into his lip. The moan he gives you for that is low and desperate, the sound of a man who likes it rough.

"Take me," he whispers into your mouth, spit-soaked fingers sliding between his legs. " _Thwart_ me." Eyes closed, he rocks into them, breath hitching with every movement. "Make me yours, Perry the Platypus."

You thought he'd never ask.

A shove and he falls to the floor, legs spread and chest heaving, skin glistening with sweat and cum, practically _begging_ for your dick. Who are you to deny him?

Reaching up, you take the cat toy into your free paw and slip the other one through the restraints, which it does with ease now that you don't have the ball to worry about. Trust him to find a way to turn even your fucking _safeword_ into a trap, the jerk.

It's the work of seconds to release your hindpaws too, and when you look back up he's on elbow and knees before you, a cum-slicked finger buried in his back cloaca,

to the second knuckle,

sliding in and out and in and out.

You haul yourself off his dick, hissing through your teeth at the aching emptiness left in its wake, and drop unsteadily to the floor between his ankles. The view's so much better from here, with every twitch and grind and roll of his hips, and all you can smell is _him_. Cum drips to the floor in long strands, the soft wet sounds of _fucking_ fill your ears, and the cat toy falls from your fingers, unneeded.

Fuck, you want him so much.

Digging your blunted claws into the firm flesh of his ass, you spread him wide, revealing where his finger disappears into the twisted pucker of his back cloaca.

He pushes it in deeper, groaning. "I've been so _Evil_ , haven't I? Tying you up like that. _Teasing_ you." All you can do is watch as he fucks himself, in and out and in and- "I need a good _thwarting_." - _fuck_. With a breathless whimper, he pulls his finger free, trembling with need. " _Thwart_ me, Perry the Platypus."

( _Fuck_.)

Growling under your breath, you grab the lube he'd _conveniently_ left next to him, pouring out enough to cover your dick and then some. Time to give him a _thwarting_ he won't forget.

You slide it between his cheeks, over and past his back cloaca, teasing at it the way he's been teasing you all evening, making sure he's slicked up to your satisfaction. He's never complained about your dick but you know he's not built to take it, he'd said as much the first time you'd fucked. Something about humans not being spiky.

"Just put it in me already," he whines, a hand coming between his legs to rub at his front cloaca. A clear invitation to fuck his goddamn brains out, anatomy be damned.

So you do.

Your hips snap forward as the last of your restraint shatters, driving your dick _so deep_ into the human warmth of his back cloaca he _yelps_ (fuck). It's a short, sharp sound, close enough to pain for you to force yourself to hold still. As frustrating as he is sometimes, you don't want to _hurt_ him. Not like this.

Panting, he wriggles himself further onto your dick, undeterred, and you let out the breath you'd been holding. He never _does_ let anything stop him, even if you could bring yourself to try. Which you can't, you don't (could _never_ ) let yourself.

Even if you _could_ , he's resilient, taking everything you can throw at him and coming back up with a grin on his face. Always has. Why should _that_ change just because you're fucking him? Why would _any_ of it? He's still the same, you're still the same, all that's different is the fucking and even _that_ may as well be a thwarting, same as always.

No wonder he needed the fucking inator.

He rolls his hips, twisting to look at you over his shoulder. "Perry the Platypus," he moans, squeezing around your dick. Music to your ears. "I'm ready, please, Perry the Platypus, _move_ -"

You _want_ to hold back, until he squirms for you, until he _begs_ for you, because it's all he deserves after everything he's done to you tonight,

but, when it comes down to it, you can't deny him _anything_ , no matter how much you want to,

so instead you rock into him, a little helplessly.

Then again, you've always been helpless to resist him. Even before the first time he'd asked you to kiss him, the first time he'd asked you to hold his hand, the first time he'd asked you to stay, you'd found yourself charmed by his manic, spiteful, optimism. And look at you now: fuck deep in his back cloaca.

Letting out a laugh that may as well be a groan, you curl forward, resting your forehead against the small of his back. _Fuck_ , he smells amazing. He stinks of sweat now, sweat and cum and a faint trace of pork, blending together into something irresistably _him_. It's all you can do to hold to a rhythm, in and out and in and out and _fuck_ and _fuck_ and _fuck_ with everything you have left.

"Don't stop," he gasps, like he thinks you _could_. Caught between your dick and his own fingers, he arches beautifully, breathing as ragged as yours.

Fuck, you love him. You love him so fucking much.

At last, he shudders, your name on his lips and a scream in his throat and his free hand scrabbling for purchase on the metal floor. His back cloaca squeezes around your dick, demanding the cum still trapped inside. "Fuck," he mumbles, once his shaking's died down. "You're too good at this, Perry the Fuckapus, I'm _exhausted_. Come on, I need a breather-", and you cut him off with a sharp thrust.

You're not done with him.

Sliding your tail under to wrap around his wrist, you tighten your hold on his hips, a growl escaping your throat. Yes, he's just come, but once is _not enough_ , you have to fuck him and fuck him and _fuck_ him until he can't think for coming.

"Oh, _fine_ ," he says, in that tone that means he's grinning like a loon, ready and eager for more. "My self-destruct button wasn't enough for you, huh? You want to - do that again, that was good - you want to try it again in case I have another - yes, like _that_ \- another inator up my sleeve? Because I have one for you _right here_ -"

His fingers, slick with his cum, slide over the base of your dick and into your still-stretched cloaca behind it,

tugging you flush against his firm ass.

Trapped, a-fucking-gain.

You can't move, helpless against his tight human warmth and probing fingers. All you can do is cling to him, eyes shut, so close you can taste it. ( _Please, fuck._ ) A whimper escapes your throat, desperate and wanting, as he clenches around you, fingerfucks you, still just the wrong side of enough.

Arching his back, scarred like his front and just as gorgeous, he shifts under you, leaving you scrabbling for purchase, your claws leaving welts on his pale skin every time you lose your grip. Which is exactly what he wants, the little shit. He loves it when you claw him up like this. You _know_ he does, because he always wears the marks like a badge of honour afterwards and it's irritatingly attractive.

All you can do is growl, trying and failing to stop yourself from thinking about what your clawmarks would look like later, rising up out of his trousers, snaking around his belly and waist, covered by his clothes but for the quick flashes when his shirt rides up. _Fuck_. Your paws slip, again, and you dig your claws in, hard enough you're sure you'll break the skin. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. He fucking _likes_ it, the tease, or you'd've pulled back by now, but that doesn't make him any less fucking infuriating. Fucking _fuck_.

He hums softly, pulling you closer, pulling you _deeper_. "Want me to let you _go_ , Perry the Platypus?"

(Fuck.)

There's nothing you want more. He's pushed you to your limit and you can't take any more, you need. Fuck. You _need_.

"Tell me what you want," he says, in the singsong voice you hate that he's still capable of, when he's pushed you to the point of struggling to think at all.

( _Please._ )

You groan, squeezing his wrist with your tail, holding tight with everything you've got. You want. You _want_ ,

Everything.

Anything.

Him.

( _Heinz, please._ )

As if he can hear you, hear the thoughts buried as deep in your mind as he is in your cloaca, his fingers twist and slide out. " _Yiff_ me, Perry the Platypus," he whispers, like that's not the most fucking ridiculous thing he could say.

But that's why you love him, isn't it.

And you fuck him, your body moving of its own accord. You fuck him for his brilliant smile, his bright laugh, his warm heart, the way he's chosen to share it all with you. You fuck him for the schemes, the traps, the bad jokes, every time he's hurt you. You fuck him with everything you have, pouring yourself into him, giving him everything you are, this endlessly fucking exasperating man you adore. You fuck him until you're _shaking_ , until _he's_ shaking, until you have nothing left to give.

He takes it all, your claws and your cum and your love, everything you can throw at him, and still he demands more from you. Fuck, he wants _more_. You're slumped forward onto him, catching your breath, and he's not even fucking done. Fuck's sake.

Summoning what little strength you have left, you lever yourself out of him, a shiver prickling along your spine from the cool air against your dick. Missing his human heat already, you shove him so he rolls over onto his back, where he lies with legs open and fingers moving lazily between them. (Fuck.) You watch for a while, mouth dry. Up and down and up and down his fingers go, and his hips with them, mesmerising as always.

"Like what you _see_ , Perry the Platypus?" he says in that hoarse just-got-fucked voice of his, spreading himself open for you, his front cloaca glistening with his cum. Fuck, he's gorgeous.

Your legs give out from under you and you fall to your knees, paws on his thighs, breathing the heady scent of him deep into your lungs. Fucking _perfect_. Then, eyes closing, you lean forward to nuzzle your bill against his fur.

Groaning, he grabs at you, smearing his cum across your face like he's _not_ the one who'll have to clean it off later. With that smart tongue of his, if you get any say in the matter. True to form, he's still fucking _talking_ , somehow coherent despite your best efforts. "You _do_ , huh?"

It's an effort not to roll your eyes. Fuck, he deserves it, but you can't bring yourself to open them. So you do the next best thing and give his human cloaca a lick, tongue catching all the slickness dripping from him.

That, finally, shuts him the fuck up.

He arches off the floor with a quiet gasp, clutching at your shoulders, both hands tugging at your fur. Which fucking _hurts_ , damn him, but he's making these breathless little noises and that makes it all worth it.

Smiling into him, you run your tongue along his skin, over and around his front cloaca, up to suck gently at the firm nub of his human dick. He likes fucking you with the ones he buys on the internet, long and thick and colourful, but there's something to be said for a dick that fits so neatly in your paw. Even if it _does_ only have the one head.

You'll never fucking understand humans. Him especially, combining the mind and body of a human with the instincts of an ocelot in the most fucking bizzare ways. But, fuck, you love him for it.

If you weren't totally spent, you'd be hard again from the way he's jerking under you, barely breathing. Not that you need to be when your mouth does the job just as well. Lick and suck and nip at the inside of his thigh, a reminder of how easily you could hurt him, if you wanted to. A promise that you won't, unless _he_ wants you to.

He's considering it. You know he is, from his muffled keening (you can almost see the way his teeth must be digging into his lip), probably thinking of the last time he'd let you. He hadn't walked straight for a _week_.

Another nip and he makes his decision, pulling away from your teeth. Soft and gentle it is.

Sliding a paw through his fur, you wrap it around the base of his dick, squeezing it while you run your tongue over the smooth tip. You can never get enough of the taste of him, musky and oddly sweet,

filling your mouth like water, filling your nose and your lungs like oxygen,

as necessary as the heartbeat thudding in your chest.

Even better is the way he writhes under you, making these little gasping noises you can't help but take as encouragement. What else could they be?

So you keep going, taking him into your mouth again, slick and hot and human on your tongue. His cum, tasting so uniquely of _him_ , combines with your spit to spill from the sides of your mouth, leaving wet tracks through your chest fur. Fuck, he's _perfect_. Every twitch, every quiet moan, every rush of his cum, everything he's chosen to share with you, you love him for it all.

"F-fuck..." The word falls from his lips in a breathless whisper. He's close. You can tell from the tremble in his voice, the tremble in his legs, the tremble in the fingers he's twisted into your fur. He swallows, audible even over your own heartbeat, then whispers again. "Perry the Platyp- ah!" Not much longer now.

His pulse throbs against your tongue, beautifully, wonderfully strong. Like him. He's the strongest man you know, facing adversity at every turn and coming through it smiling.

Ha. _Coming_. You're fucking hilarious.

And lightheaded, so you pull your mouth from his dick, paw curling back around it while you gasp for breath. _Fuck_. Lungs burning, jaw aching, you work his dick in your paws, up and down and up and down with the bucking of his hips. You love him so fucking much.

A growl tears from your throat and you bury your face between his legs again, desperate to taste him. You might be crying, or it could be his cum smeared over your face and running down your cheeks, it doesn't matter. All you know is that he tastes _so good_ and you love him _so much_ and nothing else matters but the way he writhes when you lap at his front cloaca.

Your tongue finds his dick again and he bucks into your mouth once, twice, then tenses under you, silent but for his ragged breathing. Fuck, you _never_ get him this quiet. It's a goddamn _miracle_.

Not that you don't love his voice. You _do_. If you didn't have responsibilities, you could listen to him all day. But _fuck_ is it hard to hear yourself think around here. Between his monologues and his musical numbers and his rambling, you barely get a second without his words interrupting your thoughts.

Pushing his legs further apart, you lick him clean, loving the way he trembles at the touch of your tongue. You barely have to breathe on him and he's writhing.

Fuck, he's gorgeous like this, so beautifully oversensitive.

Still shaking, he fumbles for your forgotten cat toy, waving it in your face. "No, no, no," he pleads, voice hoarse, "no more, Perry the Platypus, I yield. You win."

About fucking time.

You meet his eyes, this gorgeous man you adore, defeated and smiling. So fucking beautiful. Leaning in, you give his human dick one last brush of your bill,

a human kiss.

"Curse you, Perry the Platypus," he mutters fondly, tugging at your fur, and it's all you can do to drag yourself onto and over his belly to his waiting embrace. What is it about his impossibly strong arms, his steady heartbeat, the human warmth of him, that it feels like coming home?

Nudging your bill against his chin, you smile. _Thank you, Heinz_.

He exhales, pressing his lips to your brow. "Yes, I love you too." The words are quiet, barely a whisper, meant for you and you alone.

Taking a deep breath, you let go of the last of the masks you wear. Here and now, you don't need to pretend. All you are, all you need to be, is Perry the Platypus. His boyfriend. His nemesis. _His_ , the same way he's yours.

"I've left you in such a _mess_ , huh?"

You crack one eye open to glare at him with. Yes, yes he did, the little shit. And if he leaves you like this much longer, it'll dry into your fur, and no one wants that. Least of all him.

Nudging you upright, he combs his gentle fingers through your fur. "Let me guess, you want _me_ to do something about it." Back to his regularly scheduled complaining, _of course_. The quiet never had a chance. At least it was good while it lasted, short as it was. "You know what, I _will_ ," he continues, louder. "Don't you worry your furry little behind about _that_ , Perry the Platypus, just you watch!"

He reaches up above his head, and you open your other eye to narrow both at him. If he's going to do _this_ part via inator instead of using his own two hands, you _will_ fucking slap him.

Instead, he drapes a damp facecloth around your shoulders, then lets his arms rest around your waist. It's a start.

"I was _going_ to make a Clean Up-inator-" You fucking _knew it_. "-but-"

Oh, for fuck's sake. You don't have time for this. Grabbing his collar, you pull his mouth to yours, swallowing his words in a human kiss the way people do in your shows. His hand, curled around your rump, you move back to the facecloth. Less talking, more cleaning.

He huffs a laugh, the deep blue of his eyes staring into your own, and you fall in love all over again. "Straight to the point, huh?"

Rolling your eyes, you kiss him once more, soft and gentle with all the love you can't say any other way. Subtlety's never been your strong point and he knows it. Loves you for it, too.

You just wish he didn't make up overcomplicated fucking schemes to _tell_ you that.

**Author's Note:**

> [Blame tumblr.](https://corru-ptbunny.tumblr.com/post/176825617363/laurencrabtree-ao3tagoftheday)


End file.
